


From Night

by Mount_Seleya



Series: Winter's Song [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jaime, Horror Elements, Inspired by Fanart, M/M, Morning Sex, Nightmares, Not Beta Read, POV Bronn, Plot What Plot, Showverse, post-Season Seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-23 02:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13778172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mount_Seleya/pseuds/Mount_Seleya
Summary: Bronn shakes off a chilling nightmare by basking in his lover's warmth. Loose sequel toA Doing Word.





	From Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roqueamadi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/roqueamadi/gifts).



> Written as a result of [Roqueamadi's](http://archiveofourown.org/users/roqueamadi/pseuds/roqueamadi) encouragement and the [latest batch](http://oldstupidtemplar.tumblr.com/post/171027065281/please-give-them-to-me-in-the-new-season) of (NSFW!) Bronn/Jaime art from Oldstupidtemplar.
> 
> Update: Oldstupidtemplar has done a lovely [original drawing](http://mount-seleya.dreamwidth.org/file/1974.jpg) based on this story (mild NSFW). <3

Thick flakes battered Bronn's face. The wind lashed the lank strands of his hair. Shadows were shambling closer. He could see their eyes, glowing blue through the choking white haze, burning like a sea of stars in a dead sky. Heaving in a bitterly-cold breath, he readied his old, battered sword, dug his boots more firmly into the knee-deep snow.  
  
Blood thundered in his ears. His heart hammered in his chest. All his life, he'd known fear, fighting, blood. When he was a boy of five, his father had shoved a dirk into his hand, herded him onto a boat, and taken him reaving.  
  
This was a different sort of war. One they’d been losing for a year. The dead didn't rest. They just marched onward. In a few short moons, the armies of the living had been driven from Winterfell, then Castle Cerwyn, then Moat Cailin. _We can't lose the Neck_ , Jaime had said. They'd held Greywater Watch for several moons. Maybe it was the bogs.  
  
Now Bronn stood alone in the frigid night. The dead broke through the howling white. Men, women, children, giants. Closer and closer, they stalked, until he sighted tarnished gold pauldrons, a chipped crimson breastplate.  
  
Bronn's heart clenched. His sword trembled in his grip. "No," he said, a tiny curl of steam.  
  
Glowing eyes fixed upon him. Grew brighter and brighter. He could see the face now. The sharp nose pitted by rot. The square jaw melted away to reveal a row of black teeth. One mouldering hand lifted and flew toward him.  
  
Then the dead thing shattered. An orange glow flooded Bronn's vision. He blinked once, twice, panting harshly. Out of the dim firelight swam a pale face, blue eyes wide beneath knit brows and a fall of brassy, silver-flecked hair.  
  
"Bad dream?" Jaime asked at last, a raw rumble of sand and sleep.  
  
"What gave that away?" Bronn shot back, a little sourly.  
  
Silence unspooled between them for a weighted span. Then Bronn shoved Jaime down onto the musty furs. He rolled on top of the prone body, slipping into the space ceded by the parting of long, muscled legs. A large hand lifted, tangling in the sweaty skeins of his hair and nudging, bringing them nose-tip to nose-tip and chin to chin.  
  
Warm breath gusted across Bronn's lips. Blue eyes peered up at him through slitted lids. Jaime was alive below him. He needed to have him _now_. Needed to claim enough of his heat to forget. To shake off the chill bite of dread.  
  
"You love it, don't you?" Bronn goaded in a rough croon. "My common cock filling your highborn arse?"  
  
"You're an anointed knight," Jaime returned drolly.  
  
"Aye, that I am," Bronn said, fitting the tip of his cock into place. The little furl was still slack and tacky with grease. "And so are you, Lannister. Nice and anointed for me." He twitched his hips. Edged in a hairsbreadth.  
  
" _Fuck_ ," Jaime bit out, eyes pressing shut.  
  
Bronn spared a moment before easing his hips forward, sinking into the molten clasp of Jaime's body in a slow, smooth slide. The burnt-gold head tipped back. A wincing groan skittered out through grit teeth. Legs girded Bronn's waist. He stayed his hips for a beat once he was sheathed balls-deep, then settled into an easy, rolling rhythm.  
  
Kissing the moles under Jaime's right eye, Bronn breathed in the faint, lingering musk of leather and steel. It was a rare, powerful thing, the feel of this peerless man pinned beneath him, of the living heat gripping his flesh.  
  
Jaime clutched Bronn's hair. Slung his right forearm across his shoulders. "I love you."  
  
"Oh, love," Bronn crooned into Jaime's ear. "I know. _I know_."  
  
Bronn sealed his lips over Jaime's. Kicked his hips into a pitiless tempo. The strangled shard of a cry was lost in his mouth. He drank it down greedily. Arms cinched around his shoulders. Rough heels dug into the meat of his arse.  
  
And then Jaime came unstrung, arcing off the rumpled, sweat-sodden furs, spilling onto Bronn's belly in hot pulses. Bronn reached his own completion soon thereafter, spending inside his lover with a long, muffled groan.

Their lips dragged apart an eternity later. Bronn let his brow drop against Jaime's. Fingers carded through his hair. His cock was soft, now, but he made no move to retreat. Had no wish to leave the shelter of Jaime's arms.  
  
"Sometimes I have nightmares," Jaime admitted quietly. "Of you. Of my sister. Of the son I've never met."  
  
"Get some sleep," Bronn replied. "I'll take your watch. Expect you'll be too sore."


End file.
